I Am Not Brooding!
by Foxes at Night in Tailcoats
Summary: For round 2 of the Quidditch Competition 2014


'I am not brooding on it!'

Severus Snape turned on his heel and, with uplifted chin and a sweep of robes, marched down the corridor away from the staffroom.

'Not brooding my arse'. Professor Sprout watched the departing figure, children scattering quickly out of the way as he passed. Minerva McGonagall, who was also watching, pursed her lips in agreement.

'I am not brooding on it!'

Severus hissed at tea to Filius Flitwick, on his left at the head table. Filius continued to calmly eat his mash and mushy peas. However, with the back end of his fork he gestured towards Severus' plate, upon which was roughly sculpted a concave oval shape made from potatoes, the mushy peas forming a decent substitute for a verdant lawn within. With a snarl Severus raked his knife over the offending evidence and, without asking to be excused, left the table. Filius exchanged covert glances with Minerva and Pomona behind Albus Dumbledore's back.

'I am not brooding on it!'

Professor Snape shouted at Marcus Flint, and instantly felt annoyed with himself for displaying a loss of control to a student. Flint grinned, ready to take advantage of his head of house in the way young people do of adults when they see a chance. Seeing this and knowing he had lost his authority at that time the professor whirled and left the room, leaving the Slytherin quidditch team grinning.

'I AM …'

'Yes I know, Severus, you are not brooding on it'. Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled violently, but it was with amusement, not reproach. 'But maybe you could "Not brood on it" a little more calmly, hmm?' The older man suppressed an outright grin watching his Potions Master try to compress his face into a docile mask, something that it was not naturally design for. 'I mean', continued the Headmaster as he pulled a boiled lolly from somewhere in his sleeve and began to slowly unwrap the crackling cellophane surrounding it, his focus complete on its liberation 'Marcus Flint was very frightened of the way you spoke to him, we can't have students cowering in fear from teachers, hmm?' Dumbledore popped the sweet in his mouth and stole a quick glance at the man opposite, who looked like he was going to explode. 'That will be all, thank you Severus'. The dismissal was all Professor Snape wanted as he removed himself with alacrity.

Saturday dawned clear and promised to be hot. After lunch the school, exams over for the year and holidays ahead, swarmed down to the quidditch pitch laughing and joking. Here house elves were found in the stands in abundance, with trays of iced lollies charmed to retain their shape in the heat whilst 6th formers Skimbleshanks & Arbuckle, the usual duo of in-house pre-quidditch match entertainment, were adding to the atmosphere with their noisy and irreverent observations. Currently they were delivering one of their most crowd pleasing of regular sketches, a humorous look at the previous week's events complete with impersonations.

'…and that's how I would do it if I were you, Potter!' Arbuckle was wearing an outrageously long and curled gold wig, ripping on Professor Lockheart was one of his specialities. Skimbleshanks, wearing a black wig and lens-less spectacles, replied with something appropriate and the crowd laughed as 'Lockheart' gave some extra curly moves to the feather he was using for a wand and turned 'Potter' into a very, very large, lacy, red bra. Clapping and wild cheers ensued, and Professor Sprout blushed a fiery red and vowed to kill the 'little rascals'.

The pair bowed after tossing the bra into the crowd and then Skimbleshanks donned a longer black wig and a black cloak. 'I AM NOT BROODING! THIS DOES NOT BOTHER ME IN THE SLIGHTEST! 500,000 POINTS FROM YOU ALL FOR EVEN BREATHING!' he roared at the top of his lungs whilst 'Lockheart' tried to tickle him with his feather-wand.

Minerva McGonagall allowed the corners of her mouth to upturn slightly into a small smirk as she watched 'Lockheart' chase 'Snape' all over the commentary box and out through the crowd.

Under the stands, in the Ravenclaw change rooms, a similar scene was actually playing out as the real Lockheart was offering advice to all of the staff who had volunteered to participate in the Student vs. Teachers Charity Quidditch Match. Professor Sinistra (Position: 1st Chaser) just examined her nails in boredom and Team Captain Flitwick (Position: Seeker)

Professor Snape (Position: 3rd Chaser) sat in a corner with his broomstick and was looking rather green. Lockheart had just about rounded on him to '…boost his confidence, poor lad, he's looking a bit peaky isn't he, well, we'll soon fix that up, have a potion here that's just the ticket . . . ' when McGonagall appeared and gently re-directed him towards Professor Vector (Position: 1st Beater). As he toddled off she turned and looked at the scowling man in the corner.

'Good luck out there today, Severus.' She said, casing the man to straighten slightly 'and remember, whatever happens, you'll never look as silly as some.' She winked at him and was gratified to see a small smile start to form on his thin lips and the green tinge on his face start to clear before she moved off to threaten Flitwick to win 'otherwise I'll never hear the end of it from Albus. I must win this bet!'

The announcement was made for the teams to come onto the pitch and Minerva left for the stands. Severus straightened up, feeling lighter than he had done in weeks. His stomach had stopped flipping over, he felt much more in control.

'Ready, Sev?' asked Irma Pince (Position: 2nd Beater). He nodded in the affirmative as the team headed out into the sunlight. He felt a tug on his sleeve just before exiting, looking down it appeared Captain Flitwick wanted a quiet word.

'Please try and not have any 'friendly fire' at Guilderoy today,' (Severus could swear Filius was slightly smiling as he said that) 'I have asked the others as well. Oh, and Severus, enjoy yourself today, hey? No brooding up there, remember the phrase, "You snooze, you lose".' Cheerily he stepped out of the change room and onto the pitch, the cheers of the spectators drowning out Chaser Snape's sarcastic and bitter retort.


End file.
